Never took the time
to go out at night,
to look at the stars,
the shooting stars,
to listen to nature’s song
of the birds, the bugs, the coyotes.
Was told that bad things
happen at those hours
but it seems that bad things
happen at all hours.
Why not find beauty
in the late and early hour
if it can be found
in the waking ones too?
Tag: nature
Learn(ing)
. . .
then suddenly
it starts to make sense
it’s all over now
there’s no recompense
time didn’t stop
the world kept turning
and hearts can still break
still, that one takes learning
. . .
The Unspoken Agreement
I have never seen
a rabbit lying down–
not in the wild, anyway.
When they’re caged
and domesticated,
they’ll take a load off, sure,
either trusting whoever has them
or from sheer desperation.
Their eyes are like marbles
that don’t tell much
even if you were to look
long enough.
Why would you? Why would I?
I sit out on the porch
most nights
to unwind from the day.
These days I see rabbits
out there, lying in the grass,
eyes in my direction
but bodies still planted
on the ground.
I should probably chase them away
yet, yet . . .
I have never seen
so many rabbits lying down
.
.
.
.
.
.
Hey y’all. I didn’t plan on posting today but I’m literally just watching rabbits in the yard right now (it might be a slow night, lol.)
And now for a shameless plug:
If you haven’t already done so, feel free to check out the Unnecessary Podcast. My good friend Clint (also co-contributor on this site) hosts it (and I tag along to make an ass of myself 😉) We’re going to incorporate some poetry at some point so if you would like to read something on there (pre-recorded or otherwise) or have something read (likely by Clint), feel free to drop a line on the contact page or send me an email at cdanders91@gmail.com .
Hope y’all have a more exciting Friday night than me and these long-earred fiends😄 God bless! –the real C. D.
Along the Way
By feet or wheels,
by metal wings cutting through air
or propeller and sail on water,
set sights for the horizon
and charge full speed ahead
with the zeal of a wanderer
and the heart
of an adventurer,
never stopping
until you catch the sun
along the way
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Here’s a similar idea, except poorly imitating Whitman:
Ponderings Above the Tree Roots
I wonder if the falling bird
knows at their first descent
that they will learn
to fly
or
if the flying bird
does wonder from
high up in their perch
why we don’t meet them
on the treetops
to sing songs
all the live-long day
Green Thumb Blues (Haikus)
Nature’s gentle touch
makes all the flowers spring forth;
my plant prefers death.
* * * * *
“How about a drink?”
It does not answer questions,
it exits stage right.
* * * * *
The plant withers and
dies. Still it grows strong, laughing
at my sore defeat.
Tines
Never heard, never saw,
never looked for that matter.
Shall we throw caution
to the wind,
take on what may come
in fits of unbridled
rage and joy?
Shall we walk lonely
down the paved roads
of familiarity
or chance the untested
passages?
Maybe hurt and loneliness
wait there, monsters
of our own creation
but then again,
maybe not.
Sometimes I want to know
and other times
I want to roam
to the unknown.
Let’s go to the fork in the road
and put some tines in it
The World Revolves All the Same
I could tell the bird to fly
and point a finger to the sky
but she would fly all the same
and truthfully I could not blame
the bird for doing what she does
even if I’m not the cause
Roads
Less travelled, but it’s still a road
Just someone else’s path bestowed
Another place for us to pass
As we dance freely through the grass